school, and nothing else matters. I'll bet if Praska got nailed with an open locker he'd bawl him out as hard as he'd hand it to you or me."
The footsteps went along the corridor, turned a corner, and were swallowed in a host of other sounds. By and by, across the willful face of Betty Lawton, a new expression began to find its way. He had spoken of the Northfield spirit. "You can't," he had said, "pass bad citizenship over with a smile." And he had added something that gave her pause the longer she thought of it. A leader ought to stand for the law of Northfield and not against it. He had called her a leader—and in the same breath had condemned her. All at once a new and strange respect for this monster, this bawler out, began to run through her veins.
Presently she was stirred to action. Going to her locker, she hung up her clothing and carefully locked the door. As she turned away she saw Merritt. Suddenly she was moved to try a strange conclusion.
"Lee," she called as she reached his side, "my locker was emptied by the committee."
"Gosh," he said. "Isn't that tough luck? You girls who forget to turn a key will get into trouble. When did it happen?"
"This morning some time."
